


nice to meet you (where you been?)

by fearlesslyfabulousfangirl



Series: hello, goodbye [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 07:27:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3438701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fearlesslyfabulousfangirl/pseuds/fearlesslyfabulousfangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke meets her roommate's latest conquest at six in the morning. (Modern AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	nice to meet you (where you been?)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is my entry for Day 4 of Bellamy Blake Week.
> 
> Title is from Taylor Swift's "Blank Space".

It was only barely six in the morning, which she thought was unusually early for someone else aside from her to be awake, but Clarke could already hear the footsteps coming from the bedroom adjacent to the kitchen long before she caught sight of the guy they belonged to.

She had been placing bets with herself on what he might look like. He had sounded very competent last night, but from the last two months she had spent as Roma’s unfortunate roommate, she knew that hardly ever meant anything. Roma had her own schematics; the men she brings home every time she came from her night outs only needed to be able to follow instructions.

This guy from last night, however, lived up to the hype of Roma’s moans. (Yes, Clarke always hears whatever [or whoever] it was that her roommate was doing all the way to her bedroom, as if the walls were jeering at Clarke for choosing to stay in on a Friday night.) He was tall—well, not much taller than her, but she figured that if she had to stand next to him, he’d be kind of towering over her—with thick black curls on his head and a sharp, angular jaw. His dark-rinsed jeans hugged his waist perfectly and his white button-down polo clung on to this chest like he was endorsing it. She assumed that he was no more than five years older than her, and that he was probably someone who had just recently gotten out of college. Clarke was sure he could pull off a modeling gig if he wanted to. He looked like somebody who could get everything he wanted by simply flashing a smile. It seemed that Roma had added a remarkably impressive notch to her bed post.

The guy blinked against the glaring stream of light that came from the kitchen and strode his way through a stack of her medical text books on the floor to collapse into one of the extra chairs of the dining set that Roma’s mother had purchased for the apartment. Without saying a word, Clarke slid the glass of water (which she had already poured in anticipation) over to his side of the table.

"Thank God," was the first thing he said when he finished, his voice deep and husky, before burying his head into his arm and gently banging it on the table over and over.

"It looks like you had a rough night." Clarke said innocently, turning back to the stove. She had been making some chicken soup in preparation for her expected hangover that she was definitely going to have the next day. One of her new college friends, Octavia (whom she met a little over a month ago after accidentally spilling paint all over the girl’s shoes), was throwing a birthday party later that night and she was pretty sure she won’t be able to avoid one Monty’s homemade concoctions. (She knows that if she declines Monty’s latest hooch, he and Jasper would not stop pestering her to at least ‘take a sip’.)

“Rough morning.” He corrected her, shaking his head on the table and muffling his reply. Clarke chuckled at his response and filled up a bowl. The soup looked and smelled wonderful. All she would have to do was re-heat it the next day. If she was being honest, she was so ready to get wasted at O’s party later.

She looked back at the guy and saw him giving her a once-over. Clarke suddenly felt conscious of her oversized t-shirt and her plain blue pajamas, and she had to fight the urge to put her disarrayed blonde hair in a ponytail. When he saw her looking, he turned to look out at the windows. The sun hasn’t even risen up yet.

"She isn’t a very pleasant person, is she?" The guy asked, seeming to have had finally overcome his—whatever it was he felt after spending the night with her arduous roommate. Now that she had gotten a closer look at his face, she noticed the dusting of freckles across his nose that contrasted beautifully against his olive skin, and the small cleft (or was that a dimple?) on his chin. (Which Clarke found really sexy, not that she’d straightforwardly admit it.)

"Did she come on too strong for you?" Clarke teased without needing an answer. The unkempt head of dark hair was an indication that her roommate probably did. From what she’s observed from the moment she’s lived with Roma, her roommate was who she figured was oozing with sex appeal (as if the harem of men—that’s the only word Clarke could use to describe them—Roma’s brought home every night didn’t give Clarke a clue) but was a really moody and indifferent type of person when she wasn’t anywhere near nightclubs. (Clarke would know; the entire time she’s known Roma, they haven’t had an actual friendly conversation yet.)

Clarke guessed that he didn’t find her jab as amusing as she thought since all he gave her was an exasperated side-eye, which entertained her even more. But then again, Clarke wasn’t heartless. She had dated a huge asshole back in high school and knew what it was like to be absolutely played around.

She handed the bowl over and gently flung a spoon to him, which he caught effortlessly.  After staring at the bowl of chicken soup for a split second, he dug in with gusto.

“What should I call you?” Clarke asked after he was nearly finished.

The food seemed to have perked him up. He answered with a striking smile and Clarke could see why Roma must have decided to take him home last night. “Calling me Bellamy would work.”

“I’m Clarke. It’s nice to meet you.” She offered her hand for him to shake.

Bellamy ran his hand through his hair before taking her hand in his. “Thanks for the soup, Clarke. I guess it’s time to admit that I made the mistake of choosing the wrong roommate.”

Clarke let out a small laugh, trying so hard to not blush at his words. "Well, I think you picked the wrong way to carry this out. Before you go home with someone, I think you have to at least chat her up a bit. A minute with Roma, and you would’ve known what you would get into—wait, have you never hit on a girl before? ” She asked teasingly.

He laughed—the most glorious sound she’s heard in her entire life. “Oh, blame the jetlag. I’m in town for the weekend. My sister is having a party tonight and she forced me to come in a little early. I’ll remember your very sound advice for future reference though.”

“Well, I’m happy that we could accommodate you with a warm bed for the night.”

Bellamy chuckled and shrugged. “I like you.”

Clarke pursed her lips and considered him for a moment before replying, “I think I might like you, too.”

They both smiled and Clarke brought her own food over to sit next to him. He grabbed one of her sketchbooks from the kitchen counter and skimmed through the pages. “Are all of these yours?” He asked her with an incredulous look on his face, after scanning the sketches for quite a while.

Clarke merely nodded and focused on her food, as she watched him stop at some pages to take a look at the details.

“These are pretty amazing. You’re pretty amazing.” Bellamy nodded at the sketchbook. “An artist and a med student,” he whispered in awe to particularly no one.

She abruptly turned to him. “How did you know that I study med?”

Bellamy shrugged. “Aside from all those books lying around on the floor, and the fact that I already know that your roommate dropped out from school… I took a wild guess. Did I guess right?” He asked, giving her another one of his dazzling smiles.

Clarke shrugged comically, which made him chuckle. “What are you going to do for the rest of the day?” she asked as she stood up to put away the dishes.

“Are you asking so I’ll leave?” He joked.

Clarke nodded and glanced pointedly towards the door. “I actually have somewhere else I need to be.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he jumped up of his chair, flustered, accidentally flinging away the sketchbook he was just holding. Clarke thought he looked adorable and had to work to keep up with a straight face. He frantically picked up what he dropped, and put it back on the kitchen counter. “Okay, just let me find my shoes, and I’ll be out of your hair in a second…”

He unobtrusively scurried back into Roma’s room and she could indistinctly hear him throwing things around. He dashed back into the kitchen, now wearing his shoes, and did a victory bow. Clarke attempted to bite back a laugh.

“Well, like I said earlier, it was nice to meet you, Bellamy.” She gave him a faint wave, because whether Clarke would admit it or not, she wouldn’t mind to spend the entire day just talking to him and bask in the glow of his presence.

He sauntered over to her before he bent down and kissed her hand. “It was lovely to meet you, too, Clarke. Thank you again for the breakfast. I hope you have a nice day.”

Clarke smiled to herself as he sped out of the apartment, appreciating his chivalry. But as soon she heard him close the door shut, she quickly rinsed off the dishes and started in on her morning rituals, making sure she didn’t make too much noise so she wouldn’t wake Roma (her roommate was usually cranky in the morning every time she lets someone spend the night before), getting ready for the day in approximately fifteen minutes flat. She had been extending Bellamy’s presence for so long that she had hardly enough time left to get to her 8AM appointment. It was kind of worth it though—of all Roma’s conquests in the past few weeks that Clarke’s lived with her, only he had actually managed to thank her for breakfast.

Thankfully, she was able to get to the coffee shop before anyone called her in annoyance, which, to Clarke, was an absolute miracle. Octavia had insisted on spending the day with her and Raven, O’s long-time best friend (who Clarke had only met less than a month ago, and she had concluded that she and Raven would also pretty much get along), and would have been hysterically furious if either of them had said no. The two girls had obliged, although there had been no real question about it. On an ordinary day, Octavia was the queen. On her special day, she was the supreme dictator.

After two hours of Octavia laying out her final party plans over coffee and some croissants, they had headed to the nearby boutique to look for something O could wear later that night; as if she didn’t have three other outfits prepared already. As soon as the birthday girl asked the two to critique the eleventh dress she tried on, Clarke was kind of riled that she had even bothered to rush over. Raven’s eyes were glazed over and Clarke kept her sanity by poking the other girl awake before O would come out to reveal her next outfit. (To be fair, Octavia just really wanted to look good for her twenty-first birthday. Clarke just wished she wasn’t such a perfectionist about it.)

Octavia’s phone went off and Raven took the phone out of her best friend’s bag, answering the phone call for her.  “Not that boutique, dumbass! We’re in the one that’s seven blocks away! Just hurry your ass up!” she yelled into the phone, rolling her eyes.

When she hung up, Clarke tilted her head in question.

“O’s huge ass dork of an older brother is coming to meet us.” She shrugged.

“Oh,” Clarke mouthed, ready for the interruption.

“Looks like the Blake siblings are taking us out to lunch. I guess that means I won’t be taking out my wallet today.” Raven grinned, shoving her wallet deep inside her bag to get the point across.

It took four more dress fittings before Octavia’s brother arrived though. Clarke whispered her thanks to whoever her brother was for the interlude, even if it was a bit later than she wanted. She definitely did not want O to force her into trying on some clothes next.

Clarke turned around just in time to see Octavia running to wrap someone in a tight embrace. When her friend let go and tugged her brother back toward them, Clarke’s heart raced.

O’s brother hadn’t seen her yet, walking over to give Raven a high-five, but when he finally saw her, he gave her a sheepish grin.

“Clarke,” he nodded at her before his sister could say anything. Bellamy had looked much better than he did a few hours earlier, his hair a wonderful kind of messy. He looked comfortably casual in a dark grey t-shirt that fit him perfectly which was paired with acid washed jeans that made his legs look longer than they actually are.

Both Octavia and Raven looked back and forth between them. “You know Bell, Clarke?” O just had to ask, confusion quite evident in her voice.

“Um, yeah, I’ve met him already…” Clarke looked away, trying to avoid O’s next question. It may have looked like she was embarrassed, but to be honest, she couldn’t stop grinning on the inside. Of all the people in the entire world, O’s brother just had to be the hot guy who she thought she’d never see again. (Also, why didn’t she notice that they did kind of look-alike? The olive skin, dark hair, piercing gazes that could only be done with those kind of eyes, their warm and yet cocky smiles—damn, these two have amazingly good-looking genes.)

“How do you know each other?” Raven asked, lifting her left eyebrow skeptically with a hint of teasing. By the looks of it, the girl could tell there was an interesting story to it.

“It’s none of your business, Reyes.” Bellamy replied, laughing—the second time Clarke heard that splendid laugh of his.

O and Raven rolled their eyes in unison at his answer, but they decided to let the topic drop. “Either O and I will get it out of you two someday, or you guys will break and tell us before we would remember to ask.” Raven shrugged.

“Anyway, I find it a blessing in disguise that you two already know each other.” Octavia asserted, handing her bag to her brother for him to carry.

“And why is that?” He asked as he took it from her. Clarke had noticed that the way Bellamy looked at his younger sister was so full of love, like he would do anything for her, and it made Clarke admire him even more.

“Because since Miss Clarke Griffin here has long ago declined to partake on any of the preparations for my party tonight,” O put her arm around Clarke to clarify her intentions, “I now officially appoint her in charge of you until you leave.” O finished her sentence with a triumphant smile, grabbing Raven (who was cackling like crazy) to take a look at more dresses.

“I guess you don’t need to set them up on a blind date anymore, O.” Raven said with a laugh, her left arm entangled with the birthday girl’s right.

“I can totally get behind that ship, you know?” Clarke heard Octavia say before they were out of earshot.

Apparently, Bellamy had also heard it. “O was going to set us up.” He whispered to no one in particular.

Clarke turned to look up at him. (And she was right earlier this morning, he wasn’t that much taller than her, but she still felt tinier in his presence. It must be that air of confidence that both of the Blakes have.) He was still staring after Octavia and Raven in disbelief, running his hands through his hair. “You should’ve just been a bit more patient, then.” Clarke elbowed him playfully.

Bellamy shrugged. “I don’t mind the way we met. It’s a good story to tell to people in the future.” He gave her a cocky grin, and Clarke couldn’t help but grin back.

“Well, Bellamy Blake, let me just say that’s it very nice to have met you…For the second time.” She held out her hand, stifling a giggle.

He took her hand deliberately, and shook it, a mischievous smile forming on his face that was letting her know he is playing along. “Likewise, Clarke Griffin. Likewise.”

“Will you two lovebirds stop gawking at each other, so we can get moving?” They heard Octavia’s voice before they saw her emerge from a row of clothes rack, Raven following behind her.

The other girl snorted at the O’s mention of lovebirds. “This is going to be so fun, I can already tell.” She lifted her eyebrows at Clarke and Bellamy knowingly before tailing Octavia out of the boutique.

Clarke followed the two girls to the exit, with Bellamy eventually falling in-step beside her.

“So…” He started. “Since you get to be in charge of me until I leave, which, by the way, will still be tomorrow night, do you think Roma would mind?”

Startled by the words that came out of Bellamy’s mouth, Clarke abruptly stopped walking and looked up at him. “Would Roma mind what?”

“Would she mind if I stay over at your place tonight?” He asked her, a sexy smirk plastered on his gorgeous face.

Clarke looked away, and moved her attention on Octavia and Raven who were walking not that far from them. She hears Bellamy’s self-satisfied chuckle on her left, and she felt her face blush pink when she thought about all the things that could possibly happen later night.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first American TV show-inspired fanfic ever, and I'm so glad that I was able to contribute to The 100 and Bellarke fandom.
> 
> I would really love to try writing some more, so if you want to leave me some prompts, drop by [HERE](http://www.fearlesslyfabulousfangirl.tumblr.com) and leave me a message!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
